Of Bad News and New Arrivals
by Takara Matsudaira
Summary: A new, yet familiar — very familiar — bird is introduced to Pedro and Mateo backstage at The Jungle one night, right before their performance. She obviously has memory loss if she can't even remember who Mateo — her own brother — is. Will performing with them make her remember? Pre-Rio. An OC focused story. Humor/Family. MULTI-OCs. MULTI-CHAP. IN-PROGRESS.
1. What Friends Are For

**Dedications** This story was inspired by Qille's _Rio_ stories, _Deadly Secrets_, _Bottled Up_, _Seeing Double_, _Curse of the Spider_; EmmerzK's _Rio_ stories, _Embrace the Rhythm_, _Sacrificial Loyalty_, _Shine a Light_; ILOVENICO1000X's _Rio_ story, _Diamond in the Rough_.

**A/N** Okay, so here's the rewritten version of _Rio: A Musical Beginning_. I hope you like it! Because I most definitely like it a whole heck of a lot more than the original. :)

**Disclaimer** _Rio_ (c) Blue Sky Studios. Mateo, Paris, and Safari (c) Takara "Taka" Matsudaira.

* * *

"What Friends Are For"

"See—I told you you'd like it!" exclaimed Paris—a bodacious, yet very sexy, red-crested cardinal, my best friend—her wings outstretched, motioning toward the colorful interior of the club as she spoke.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said dismissively, waving my wing lazily. "You were right."

"Oh c'mon already, Safari!" sighed Paris exasperatedly, turning around stiffly, wings at her sides, glaring at me pointedly. "You need to let loose, have some fun... And you ain't gonna do that if you keep lockin' yourself up in that lonely—_very_ lonely, might I add—hollow of yours!"

I smiled—an actual _smile_.

Paris was about to interject, but before she could, she also broke out into an even wider grin than before. "You — Wait — Are you — Is that a...a... SMILE?" I really thought she was going to faint. She definitely looked like she was about to anyway. "It is! You — You're _smiling_!"

It's then that passersby started staring, but we only hugged it out.

"Thanks, girl," I whispered into her ear, loud enough for only her to hear.

"'Thanks'?" she asked, after we reluctantly let go of each other. "Thanks for what?"

I sighed, but ruffled her head feathers playfully, trying to lighten the mood (even though we were in a club). "I don't know...just thanks...you know...for always being there, I guess..."

Thinking I had failed to lighten the mood, I was about to say something else, but Paris beats me to it. "Hey, girl, that's what friends are for!" That's when she literally hugs me to death in one of her famous best friend bear hugs for the umpteenth time that night. "Now, let's say that you and I go find my brother and his best friend. What'cha say, girl?"

I just simply reply with a, "sounds good," and a shrug of the shoulders, before we make our way backstage, to find her brother and his best friend, before their performance later that night.

I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Pedro and Mateo yet, the Ever-So Talented Oddballs. Yup, that's the title they go by; no lie. It was an oddity to see one and not the other; but if you do, then the other is not far behind (so I've been told...and too many times to count).

* * *

Meanwhile, Pedro—a bodacious, yet very loud and obnoxious red-crested cardinal—and Mateo—a red variegated intensive canary, and ladies man—were talking, rather animatedly too, with the King of Samba, Rafael, who just so happens owns The Jungle—a popular, birds-only, samba club in Ipanema.

Mateo was trying to council his best friend, Pedro—who is currently breaking down backstage after hearing the most horrific news imaginable—but who was failing. Obviously. Even passersby were staring at them now.

"Dude!" he snapped, after having to apologize—again—for his best friend's behavior to another group of passersby. Picking Pedro up off of the ground by the scruff of his feathers so that the red-crested cardinal had nowhere else to look but up at him. "Yer're makin' a scene, man, and not the _good_ kind! Get a grip on yerself! Yer look absolutely pathetic...when yer're on yer knees, blubberin' like a baby, like yer are!"

Pedro abruptly stopped his crying, suddenly shooting up on his talons like a rocket, and shot a murderous glare in his best friend's direction; making said bird cower under it (much to his satisfaction). "How can yer be so calm about The Jungle (**A/N** Name (c) Taka. Do not use without permission!) possibly having to be shu—"

But he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because by then—and as if on cue—a small group of girls walked past them (flirting all the while), and Mateo's wing latched itself securely over Pedro's beak, just in time too, before he was about to say something he shouldn't have in front of them. Pedro merely rolled his eyes when Mateo said flirtatiously, "Ladies." They giggled as they bounced away playfully.

"Man, dude!" spluttered Pedro, gasping for air when Mateo finally released his wing from around his best friend's beak. "Yer wing smells! Yer should really get that thing checked out! It could be infectious! _Deadly_!"

The red variegated intensive canary merely shrugged at Pedro's exclamation about personal hygiene (he was one to talk), before he spoke seriously, "Look, Pedro, I ain't happy about havin' Raffy tellin' us that The Jungle might have to close. But do you seriously want the world knowin'—" (—he paused, wanting his words to sink in before continuing—) "—or do yer want everyone, and who is anyone, to be enjoyin' their last days at The Jungle without worryin' about the possibility of their beloved club closin'?"

Pedro sunk down to his knees and exhaled tiredly, knowing full well that Mateo was right. He did want everybody to know, but even then, he _didn't_; because he wanted everyone's last days at The Jungle to be joyous (yes, even _he_ knew some big words, and occasionally used 'em...especially when he felt the situation required one).

"Okay, okay," said Pedro begrudgingly, giving in. "Yer right, Mateo, yer right...I don' want everyone to be worryin' about somethin' that may or may not happen."

Mateo smiled knowingly. "Of course I am!" exclaimed Mateo, clearly shocked that his best friend would think other wise. "When have I ever steered yer wrong?"

"Do ya really want me to answer that?" questioned Pedro, an eyebrow raised at his best friend's exclamation. He continued when Mateo didn't speak again, "Well, there _was_ that one time with the seagu—"

Mateo shook his head, wings in the air in mock surrender. "Hey~! Yer promised yer never bring up that incident ever—and I mean EVER, again—as long as yer're alive, anyway. So, now I guess I have to kill ya myself...!"

Pedro's eyes widened. His best friend grabbing him by the neck, giving him a full-on noogie, in a clearly _unescapable_ head-lock.

Their childish antics were suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice yelling their names in the background excitedly and repeatedly, "Pedro! Mateo!"

They both turned toward the voice. Landing a few inches away from them was Pedro's one and only older sister, Paris. But that was to be expected; Paris always hung around at the club, especially if her younger brother was going to perform. But it was _the other_ bird that accompanied her that caught their attention.

Suddenly, Pedro's air supply became nonexistent; he looked up at his best friend, and his eyes widened even more, if that was even possible, when his suspicions were confirmed: Mateo was now staring at his long-lost, younger sister.

* * *

**A/N** ...So, there you have it folks—a CLIFFHANGER! I wanted to add one in there somewhere, so I had to literally delete the last bit in order for it to fit and all.

Reviews are much obliged! Flames'll be burnt to a crisp. ^_^

* * *

**P.S** Happy New Year, everyone!  
What's your New Year's resolutions?


	2. Drama Queen

**A/N** ...This chapter is much longer than I had originally intended it to be, but I want to lead you guys up to the much anticipated performance, rather than just smushing—is that even a word? ...Because my spellchecker said it's not.—in there somewhere. I want to make it special and all, ya'know?

And that's why I also changed this from a "two-shot" to a "three-shot" in the description. I hope that's alright with everyone; which I am sure it is, but I just wanted to ask just in case it...isn't.

**Disclaimer** _Rio_ (c) Blue Sky Studios. Mateo, Paris, Safari, and Adieu (c) Takara "Taka" Matsudaira.

* * *

"Drama Queen"

Before I knew it, I'm being hugged; the breath in my lungs diminishing into thin air (pun intended). The only thing that I am aware of at the moment was that of the red-crested cardinal's gasping; since he was dropped unexpectedly to the floor.

I didn't know what to do, too stunned to react. I have never, ever, been hugged before—well, unless you count Paris' many famous best friend bear hugs; but even then, all those hugs were from an _actual_ friend, and not from a complete _stranger_.

"Who you lookin' for Adieu?" asked one of Adieu's followers, obviously curious about why her best friend would be looking for someone when everyone she ever knew is currently out on the dance floor, or drinking and chatting amongst themselves at the bar, enjoying each other's company. A little too much too, by the looks of it.

Adieu—an outspoken, and _French_ (mind you) young bird—merely rolled her beautiful, gorgeous, sparkling amber eyes at what was considered _possibly_ the most underrated, understatement of the year. She is currently looking for him amongst the many partygoers in the club. She had to find him. She _needed_ to find him. If she didn't, she might _die_.

He meant the world to her. Not.

"Just..._someone_," she lamely replied, too focused on the crowd on the dance floor in order to make a witty comeback—like she _always_ did. She finally spotted him and his mother, as they entered The Jungle in silence—Little Nico glued to his mother's side (just like always). "Found him!" she exclaimed happily, taking off in their direction.

* * *

Meanwhile, her "follower" merely shrugged at her "best friend's" eagerness; taking off in the direction of the dance floor instead of following Adieu's lead. She seemed to be spending heck of a lot of time with the son of her idol's lately, but she honestly didn't care; any excuse _not_ to be called "stupid" or "a disgrace to birdkind" just for a second, is certainly fine with her.

* * *

I awkwardly chuckled; trying to pry _the_ _other_ red variegated intensive canary off of me but failing miserably, he probably thought that if he were to let go then he might lose me, or something like that. Eh, I don't know...I never know what guys are thinking, and that's also probably why I don't have a boyfriend.

Yeah, yeah; I know. Sad, but true.

Paris merely shrugged, making her famous_ I-don't-know-anything-about-this_ or _I-didn't-do-anything_ faces; which is the same thing. Basically. If you knew Paris like I did, you would be able to determine which is which; which is what I did, but couldn't do anything about it.

At the moment, that is. But the instant I get out of this awkward hug, Paris better watch her back! Because I know for a fact that she _did_ do something; something that she's gonna regret doing. Oh, yeah; she's gonna get...it...alright. Whatever "it" is. And that's a _fact_!

"Um," I couldn't think of anything intelligent to say, trying to pry him off all the while. Still. He was like glued to me. It would've been entertaining, actually, if I wasn't the one being hugged. "...Ha, ha. Uh, yeah. I don't know what's going on here, but I can reassure you: We have never—and I do mean, _never_—met before."

He finally, and abruptly, stopped hugging me; looking at me like I was insane, or something—which I am. Probably. If I am honest with myself. But then, who isn't, you know? What I mean to say is: Everyone's probably insane in their own right. I know I am...that's for sure.

"Bu-but...yer're my—" but he never got a chance to finish; for the loudest scream ever heard suddenly came from the other side of the red velvet curtain, being the front of the club. Everyone—all except for myself, that is—visibly cringed; their facial features scrunching up in an obvious look of confusion, eyes widening all the while. It was actually quite comical...if not for the scream, of course.

Pedro finally broke the panicked silence. "Isn't that... Wasn't that...?" He doesn't bother finishing his thought, before he abruptly grabbed _the_ _other_ red variegated intensive canary, and flew off in the direction of the scream.

Paris looked at me expectedly, but I merely nodded my head and shrugged my shoulders dismissively. She nodded her head in understanding, taking off in the same direction as the boys.

Yeah, I hate drama. And try to avoid it as much as possible. Paris knew of my hatred for drama too...

* * *

By the time that Pedro, Mateo, and Paris had arrived at the scene of the crime, Adieu—Paris' _least_ favorite partygoer—was comically (or, at least, it was comical to the trio) drenched in some sort of sticky liquid, that was already matting her feathers together—much to her dismay, of course. Paris couldn't help the smirk that played on her beak and the boys snickered, as they all landed in front of the hysterical canary in the middle of the dance floor. All eyes now on them, instead of the so-called "damsel in distress."

"What seems to be the problem here, _milady_?" asked Mateo, adding emphasis on the word 'milady,' as no one believed Adieu to be a lady...maybe she was a lady in terms of biology, but not by mannerisms. She was beyond spoiled when she was a chick—so she kept saying upon her arrival—and now expected to be handed the silver spoon wherever she went. It was bothersome. Oh, yes, most definitely; it was bothersome, alright.

Adieu gaped at Mateo, before lashing out at him in complete—and _unnecessary_, mind you—anger. "What do you think the 'problem' is?!" (She added air quotes around the word "problem" for emphasis.) "I've been DRENCHED by this little—" (Nico was suddenly by her side, not by choice. Obviously. She had him by his wing, which he was trying to free in a feeble attempt.) "—PIPSQUEAK!"

Suddenly, Adieu brought her wing up; everyone gasping, all apparently thinking she was going to hit poor Little Nico. Nico visibly flinched, bracing himself for the impact. But, nothing; nothing came. No pain. And no slap to the face. He bravely opened his eyes, gaping at the scene in front of him.

* * *

I wanted to punch this..._girl's_...lights out. That's for sure. She was already irritating, and _I_ haven't even met her yet. And now I don't even want to! She's such a drama queen. And I absolutely hate those types of girls! That's why all of my friends are more laid back than most, and why most—not including Paris—are guys; no lie. Some of my guy friends have even admitted that they love me (platonically, of course) because I am _not_ a drama queen.

I'm abruptly brought out of my musings when the crowd suddenly gasped. Following their lead, I gasp too; the Drama Queen was about to hit that poor little yellow canary next to her! I bursted forth, taking into the air suddenly. I absolutely _hated_ acting on impulse, but I wasn't about to watch someone get hit, especially when I know there's something..._anything_...that I can do about it.

Time stopped. Or, at least, that was what it felt like...

Everything seemed to have stopped completely, or merely slowed down. Suddenly, I landed in front of the young canary—shielding him to the best of my ability—catching Drama Queen's wing in the air, just as it was about to hit the poor thing on the side of the cheek...or so I assumed that was where she was gonna hit him.

She gasped—as did the crowd—as Drama Queen's eyes widened then suddenly becoming slits as they dangerously narrowed at me, but that didn't deterred me; I held her wings firmly in mine, not one to back down from a challenge. Especially if it involved a "drama queen" such as her. Oh, this is gonna be fun; oh yes, was this gonna be fun alright. Yeah, I have a strange sense of humor.

Don't judge me!

"Safari!" exclaimed Paris from behind me, obviously startled by my sudden appearance; though I don't look at her, for I didn't want Drama Queen to try anything stupid. Actually, I wish that she _would_ try something because then I'll have a reason to use my self-defense skills on her.

Drama Queen merely snorted before asking, "Who do you think you are?" She tried, to no avail, to free her wings from my iron grip.

I merely copied her actions by narrowing my eyes dangerously, tightening my already-iron grip for reinsurance all the while—as if I really needed reinsurance. "I'm the one who's gonna show ya the door!" I growled in her face, and by letting her go, she staggered backward a few steps before recomposing herself to her full height.

That's when she threw a sloppy—a _very_ sloppy, mind you—punch in my direction that I easily dodged, to which where I caught her wing and simply held it behind her back before letting it go lazily; some of the birds in the crowd having to step out of the way because we were all over the place now.

She was gonna try it again, but Paris suddenly grabbed Drama Queen's wing, holding it back, whilst saying, "Whoah, there, girly! We don't want ya to hurt yurself now."

Mateo and Pedro merely shrugged, crossing their wings across their chest simultaneously, as the latter spoke defeatedly, "Speak for yerself,"; to which Paris glared at them both menacingly.

The female red-crested cardinal cleared her throat loudly, trying to relieve some of the tension, saying, "There's only one way to decide this!" She was still holding Drama Queen's wing behind her back, which is why she flinched in pain when she was jostled in all of the excitement, scrunching her face up in obvious pain at the same time.

Mateo and Pedro instantly brightened—but I only looked at them funny, not liking where Paris was headin' with her exclamation—as they looked at each other before simultaneously saying, "DANCE OFF!", "SING OFF!"; to which they looked at each other again, glaring at one another playfully, obviously wanting the other to back down.

Paris merely rolled her eyes at their childish antics before interrupting their "glare off," "Look, we'll flip a coin so these two... WILL YOU KNOCK IT OFF!?"; to which they both flinched, and stopped glaring at one another reluctantly. "Good. Now then, as I was saying, we'll flip a coin. Heads it's a 'dance off,' and tails it's a 'sing off,' 'kay?"

The crowd all nodded their two cents as the red-crested cardinal looked down at Adieu expectantly, while she looked up, or tried to anyway; seeing as her wing was tied down. And painfully, by the looks of it.

"If I say yes, will you let go of my wing?" asked Adieu, her voice cracking back to her thick French accent at the end when Paris moved her wing in an unnatural way.

Paris merely nodded her head "yes."

"Fine, fine!" she finally exclaimed, after grunting painfully at the action of her wing being bended unnaturally. "I accept... I-I accept!"

Immediately, Paris let Adieu's wing go lazily at the correct answer, and Adieu rubbed it dramatically—as I expected she would do before Paris had even let it go—; also nodding "yes" when my best friend looked at me expectantly too.

She clapped her wings together happily when everyone accepted the challenge. "Excellent! Now, does anyone have a coin that we can borrow...?" she asked to no one in particular.

* * *

**A/N** ...'kay, so I want to hold a contest: I want for you guys, my readers, to pick Adieu's species, since I don't really have one in mind. The only rule being: Her species can't be no bigger than Safari's/Nico's. (And if you don't remember what species Safari is, then head on over to chapter one. It's explained there.) Then, if I get more than five suggestions—and, only then—will I hold a poll. The most popular suggestion wins!

So get suggestin'!


	3. Two Sides of Every Story

**Dedications **Happy 17th Birthday, Kid Bro! I hope you have a memorable day, and that you like my gift of _Monsters, Inc._ on Blu-Ray and DVD! Because I remembered that you really wanted it, but they had discontinued it then, so you couldn't get it.

**A/N **Okay, so I finally decided to make this into a "series" rather than just a mere "two-shot" or "three-shot." I find that it's easier on me this way, even though from this point on the chapters will be about this length or possibly even longer. if that's even possible.

Also, you guys'll probably hate me, mainly because... well, I think I'll let you figure that one out on your own. It's more fun that way! *insert immature evil laugh here*

**Disclaimer** I now own Mother Canary Imogen and Destry. Much thanks goes to BlueSky Studios and 20th Century Fox Animation for making such a lovable, family-oriented movie for all of us to enjoy!

* * *

"Two Sides of Every Story"

"I don't know nothin' about no 'spill mishap'."

Paris sighed, clearly frustrated with the Native and his improper usage of the English language. Seriously; it wasn't _that_ hard to understand! You just had to apply yourself, is all. "It's 'I don't know ANYTHING about THE 'spill mishap''!"

But the Native only waved his wing dismissively, obviously disregarding the annoying correction in his improper use of the English language. It's not like he hadn't heard it all before. It's just that he didn't apply himself, mainly because he didn't want to. "Yeah, yeah. Wattevs. I'mma gonna go dance now, and enjoy the rest of my knight away from _you_."

Paris merely gave him "the feather" when he had his back to her after he took off somewhere unbeknownst to the female red-crested cardinal. "And good riddance. Men; I tell ya. No wonder us females prefer not to be bunched in with them!"

Currently, Paris and Co. were investigating the spill mishap that'd had happened earlier that night in hopes of finding out what really took place when it all went down in the middle of the dance floor before the big sing-off between Paris' best friend, Safari, and Rio's drama queen, Adieu. But their search left little to be desired. The eye witness' statements were all mediocre at best.

"Ugh!" sighed Paris exasperatedly, rubbing her temples before she took off for backstage. "I hope the boys are having better luck than I am!"

* * *

Nico was so excited today! Like, extremely. He couldn't help but stay awake all night, bouncing around his room in all of the excitement. Today was the day!

Today was the day that he'd finally get the chance to perform with Pedro and Mateo, the Ever-So Talented Odd Balls, _his idols_! His first-ever performance. Well, at The Jungle anyway. He have had always performed for his mother in their hollow, but never out in public. In _public places_. Such as _The Jungle_.

It was like a dream come true — well, almost.

The only downside of always going to The Jungle and nowhere else, Adieu. If it haven't had been for having said bird (she was French, mind you (according to her, that is)) always at said club, it would be perfect. Just... perfect.

But it wouldn't be. And it never will be. So long as _she_ hung out there.

All because of Adieu. She always — and he really had meant, ALWAYS — lingered at The Jungle, waiting for Nico — actually, no, scratch that; his mother, _her idol_. Nico knew all too well what said French...birdbrain's...plan was: To get in cahoots with his mother by using him. _Him_! Out of all of the millions of birds in the world, why did she have to choose him? Why, indeed.

Didn't she know that all she had to do was _be friendly_? Apparently not. But then again, maybe that was just asking too much of said French Birdbrain — by the way, that was Nico's (and his alone) nickname, or codename of sorts, for Adieu; though, he'd ever only really used it at home. Or when absolutely necessary — like _now_.

Actually, now that he thought about it — like, REALLY thought about it — he'd had never once saw Adieu act nice toward someone since her arrival. _Three and a half years ago_! A shame, really. If it wasn't for her "diva act" (as dubbed by, well, pretty much everyone in said country) she'd probably make for a really good mate.

Wait, what?! Did he really just say that? Yes, yes he did. And he meant it, too, he supposed. It wasn't much of a compliment though, considering how she would never be nice to_ anyone _any time soon just for the sake of being nice instead of trying to get something out of it. Sad, but true.

The sound of his mother preparing breakfast in the kitchen made him forget all about Adieu and her stuck-up attitude, making him jump up in anticipation at eating some of his mother's homemade cooking. She made the most amazing and most delicious food in all of Rio. And that was no exaggeration! Whenever he'd brought home some orange peels or seed that he had found, she have had always made it into something more — something more _delicious_.

"Sleep well?" asked his mother, Imogen, her English accent seeping through just a little bit as she spoke, when her son had made his way into the kitchen, quietly taking a seat across from the kitchen.

Nico rubbed his neck. "Not really," he said sheepishly.

Imogen Canary was probably the most sophisticated and most classy bird in all of Rio. According to her, she used to be a young girl's pet bird, who had the dream to be the "best ballerina ever" and who had moved to England (hence Imogen's thick English accent, and why she danced like a ballerina) from New York — where she'd had learned to cook by some of the most popular cooking shows that were shown on local TV — in order to succeed in doing just that. But somewhere along the way (she wouldn't state the specifics), she found herself in Brazil and by falling in love, never left; not even after the death of her beloved husband.

Said classy bird had golden, yet aging, feathers that glistened in the early morning sunlight; hazel eyes that glistened like diamonds; and could dance like a ballerina like no one's business. She was a highly respectable authority figure here in Rio, and was also well-liked by everyone.

"I wonder if that had anything to do with the singing that I heard coming from across the hall... ?" his mother asked playfully, putting down a bowl (which was really merely half a coconut shell) of delicious-looking orange peels out in front of her beloved son.

Nico looked down at the bowl, obviously confused at why she hadn't made them into something more... delicious. Sure, they looked delicious, as they always did, and fresh, but she always made them into something... more — like "stuffing" them with fresh basil leaves, pimento, fresh bay leaves, chives, cilantro, oregano, paprika, parsley, fresh peppermint, rosemary, sage, savory, spearmint, tarragon or thyme leaves, etc.

His mother caught on to her son's confusion and answered his unspoken question. "I didn't want you to be late for your first public performance at The Jungle," she said, wiping the counter where she had made their breakfast. "And there is something that I have to do; hence why I didn't 'stuff' them with anything.

"Are you excited?" she asked, trying to change the particular sensitive subject, as she sat on the opposite side of her son, who was currently stuffing his face. She smiled at said sight; Nico would have had never acted like this out in public, but he was always himself at home, and that made Imogen's already horrible day all the better — if she could only tell him, but she'd had been sworn to secrecy.

When Nico had finished his breakfast of plain orange peels, he made his way to the kitchen and threw his bowl away; before he made his way back to his seat, staring at his mother in concern.

"M-mother?" asked Nico worriedly, shaking her shoulder a bit. "Ar-are you o-okay?"

To say he was worried would be the understatement of the year. Normally, his mother was so carefree, optimistic — so... _full of life_. It downright concerned said small yellow canary to see his mother this out of character; because he'd had never once seen his mother like this before in his entire life. And it terrified him!

He shook his mother's shoulder slightly, yet gently, hopeful to snap her back to reality.

"Huh? What?" asked Imogen quickly, a little too quickly; attracting a certain boy's attention. "Oh, yes; I am fine, my son. Why do you ask?"

Nico cocked his head to the side in curiosity. "...because you blanked out on me there for a few minutes, mother, and I was beyond worried! Don't ever — and I seriously do mean, EVER — do that again!" Suddenly, he jumped into his mother's lap, adding unnecessary emphasis on said exclamation.

Affectionally, Imogen hugged her son, never wanting this moment to end. She wanted to keep her son in her wings forever. "I won't, I promise." And she meant it, too. She was never one to break her promises — all except for one, that is. The one she was going to make up for in the near future.

She cleared her throat. "Right! Well, I do believe someone has a performance to do at a certain club!"

"Then what are we waiting for?! Let's go!" Nico exclaimed ecstatically, fist-bumping the air for extra emphasis. He then flew out of the hollow in all the excitement, all but forgetting one crucial little detail.

Imogen counted down from five to one on one of her two wings, silently mouthing each number to herself as each feather went down; until her son came back in, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at her sheepishly.

"Oops," he chuckled, looking up at his mother with pleading eyes.

She, too, chuckled at her son's antics. "Alright, alright; let's go." Getting up from the wooden stool, she made her way out of the hollow; taking to the air.

"Yay!" he exclaimed happily, fist-bumping the air once more before flying off after his mother.

* * *

Imogen and her Little Nico — as she have had come to call her much beloved son, and only chick, over the years — finally landed just inside The Jungle; Nico clinging to his mother's side for dear life, obviously rethinking why he had said "yes" to performing tonight. If only she could stay... but she had a promise to keep.

And she always — ALWAYS — kept her promises, even _if_ she didn't necessarily like what she had had to do in order to keep them. There were just some things that needed to be done. And this was one of those things.

Mother Canary Imogen scanned the club with a hawk's eye for her son's idols, the Ever-So Talented Oddballs, Mateo and Pedro; but was interrupted when someone had called out to her, as a young bird, who was about Nico's size but more or less female, Adieu, found them instead, as she landed in front of them with a half-smile. Nico's grip tightening around his mother's leg in a failed attempt at trying to get his mother's attention.

"Adieu, a pleasure as always," cooed Imogen, never missing a beat, polite as ever. "You are looking lovelier then ever. What brings you here tonight, my dear girl?"

Nico couldn't help notice when Rio's bratty French resident seemed to have had beamed at having been given such a compliment from her "idol." He groaned under his breath, subconsciously biting his beak — a "nasty habit of his," as his mother had called it — in anticipation of what was to come (hanging out with her — _again_).

She only chuckled. That sickly sweet chuckle of hers, dripping from her beak like poisonous honey. Nico involuntarily shivered in response. He did not like her in the slightest. And that was putting his _hatred_ for her mildly, to say the very least.

Adieu only replied sweetly, "Why, I am here to witness your son's, Nico's—" (—she gestured toward Nico himself with her wings outstretched in exaggeration; much to Nico's dismay of course, but his mom didn't seem to have had noticed the sarcasm dripping from Adieu's beak as she said this—) "—first performance here, at The Jungle, of course. I wouldn't dare miss it for the world!"

_Of course, there isn't_, thought Nico grumpily. _Can we go now...? _He yanked on his mother's wing impatiently, wanting nothing more than to disappear right then and there (and far away from Adieu as birdly possible). He also was starting to fall asleep just standing there from staying up all night long last night.

"Hm, actually that's... perfect," hummed Imogen thoughtfully, as she tapped her chin in thought with a flight feather.

Nico's eyes widened at his mother's thoughtful facial expression before his attention was then diverted to Adieu, whom, at this point, was glaring daggers toward him, making him back up behind his mother's slender figure in fear.

_I'm sorry Nico, but this seems to be the only way_, Imogen thought sourly, _and I don't know what else to do. Please, forgive me._

She knew of her son's hatred — and Rio's, for that matter — for the French bird that was currently standing before them, whom was acting all sweet and innocent toward her son in order to get in with her idol. Oh yes, she knew alright. She just pretended that she didn't, hopeful that Adieu would change her ways — from a bratty French drama queen to a helpful and lovable bird — but to no avail, unfortunately for them. Actually, no. It was unfortunate for, well, everyone.

Mother Canary Imogen sighed inwardly, already regretting her decision but was nonetheless thankful for her son not being with her when she would have to leave, as she had had promised all those years ago.

She pulled her Little Nico by the wing — in a motherly fashion, of course — front and center, in the spotlight and in front of _her_. "If you could be a dear and look out for my Little Nico," she said faux sweetly as birdly possible to Adieu without sounding too fake, or suspicious for that matter.

Adieu had immediately beamed, making poor little Nico cower behind his mother even more in anticipation of what was to come. Knowing Adieu, she was more than likely scheming, plotting how to get rid of him and away from his mother, in order to spend one-on-one time with her _idol_; something the small yellow canary did not want to have to endure, if he could help it. But he knew he would, unfortunately.

Imogen gripped her son's shoulders in sympathy. "It's just... there's something that I really must do before my Little Nico here performs on stage with his idols. Please, if I am asking too much of you, let me know... and I'll find someone else."

"What?! No!" Adieu jumped at the opportunity, clapping her wings together happily, speaking with faux enthusiasm; meanwhile, making poor little Nico cringe, without her noticing of course, at the horrid sound that her wings made. "It's no trouble at all, Mrs. Canary! Just leave everything to me! No one will dare touch a feather on your boy's little head!"

_Yeah, all except for you_, thought Nico sourly at the female who was, without a shadow of a doubt, a good inch taller than him. _Talk about a double standard. Or an inch standard_, he chuckled, having to stifle his laugh by clamping his wing on his beak so as not to be heard by Adieu or his mother. Yeah, he didn't want _that_.

But his chuckle was soon replaced by a yelp when he was suddenly pushed forward from behind by his mother. He was then gripped by the shoulder by Adieu, who he was now standing in front of, his back facing her. His puppy-dog eyes widening a fraction at said action.

_Great. Just what I need_, he couldn't help think, a passive mask on his face so he wouldn't be questioned — ahem, _interrogated _— later. _Could this night _get_ any worse?_

"Thank you, Adieu," thanked his mother, honestly sincere this time. "I'll be back before your performance, my little one." She ruffled his three head feathers affectionally; with Nico obviously embarrassed by the gesture, as they were out in public, the young canary straightening them. "And I'll find a way to repay you, Adieu, I promise."

Nico's head snapped up at his mother. _Something isn't right here. She only ever promised when something — something _bad _— was about to happen. I don't like this. Nope, not one bit._ Of course, his mother knew nothing about this; and he, of course, intended to keep it that way because the last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out that he knew this little tidbit of information.

Adieu grinned really big at that. "You're welcome, Mother Canary Imogen. I'll take excellent care of your son! No worries, just do what you have to do, and Little Nico here will be fine."

His mother nodded, smiled down at her son sympathetically, before turning around and taking off to go do whatever it is that she had to do before his performance.

_She didn't promise... She always, ALWAYS, promised!_ Nico thought, taken aback by his mother's sudden disappearance and strange behavior. But before he could do anything about it, Adieu have had instructed him to go get them drinks at Destry's bar, much to Nico's chagrin, as she would be "too busy dancing out on the dance floor." ...Her words, not his.

_With unsuspecting birds_, the canary added as an after thought, making him snicker, as he weaved around birds of all colors, shapes and sizes, in the direction of Destry's bar. Everyone called the bar "Destry's" because he could possibly be the best bar tender in all of Rio — in the world even, if that was possible that is.

* * *

"He ordered Adieu's usual, as per routine," explained Destry, who was probably the same size as Nico, more or less. He had scruffy golden feathers, and was wearing his famous straw hat on the top of his head, and his red and black bandana around his neck; there was also a piece of straw in his beak, always taking it out as he spoke to everyone and anyone, out of respect, like now.

"But, of course, he didn't order anything for himself out of respect for his health-conscious, English mother," he spoke almost dreamily, thinking about said bird in all of her beauty.

Pedro and Mateo looked at each other knowingly, rolling their eyes before they both snapped their flight feathers in front of the Texan's dazed face, rather annoyingly too might they add. If only he would ask out the love of his life already, but they knew that that would never happen, because Destry knew that Mother Canary Imogen was not ready to date again, even if it might have had already been eighteen years since her husband's brutal murder that fateful night; and Destry, being the gentleman that he was, wouldn't ask her out until he was for certain that she was ready to date again.

"Wha-what?" Destry asked, clearly confused by all of the snapping.

The red variegated intensive canary gave Pedro a mischievous look before answering the sadly obviously confused Texan. "Yer should just ask her out already, man! I mean, look at yer; yer're drooling on yerself — _again_!"

Pedro caught on almost instantaneously. "Yeah! Just ask her out! It shouldn't matter if she's ready to date or not. You like her, and if she likes you just as much back, then she'll say yes!" exclaimed Pedro at the thought of their favorite bar tender asking out the only ballerina in the country, and the love of his life, out on a date.

"Go for it, man!" they both encouraged Destry in unison. They couldn't stand seeing their favorite bar tender in all of Rio sad and miserable just because he wouldn't ask out the girl of his dreams. The hat-wearing, bandana-wearing canary always made sure they were happy, so why shouldn't they try to do the same? It only made sense.

"Wha-what?!" he spluttered again, but this time in obvious embarrassment. He was now stacking paper cups on the back shelf of his beloved bar haphazardly, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with the two friends and club owners.

Said duo gave an eye roll. They knew this game all too well. Their friend here would be all mushy, gushy over the love of his life until someone would encourage him to ask her out, then he would go over to the shelf and stack cups in order to avoid making eye contact with them. They weren't stupid.

"Anyway," he said, clearly trying to change the topic of conversation. "Nico seemed to have had been rather out of his element when he came by my bar to order Adieu's drink. He said it was only because he hadn't slept a wink last night, due to the butterflies in his stomach about his performance today, and all that jazz, so I believed him; because, well, it's Nico, and we all know he can't lie."

The two friends nodded in agreement at that statement, knowing aforementioned canary couldn't lie, at all. Though, it was quite amusing when he actually _did_ try to lie however, because he would always stutter when he tried his wing at lying before he would guiltily confess that he was, indeed, lying; hanging his head low in utter shame at even trying to lie in the first place. He was cute like that, in a platonic way of course.

Still stacking cups, but in a less sloppy-like manner, Destry continued his side of the story, "Upon receiving his — or I should say _Adieu's _— order, the tired thing made his way back to the dance floor, in the direction that which he came from."

"That's it?" asked Pedro incredulously. "But there's just gotta be more than just... well... _that_!"

Mateo slapped his best friend on the back of the head with his wing, making said red-crested cardinal's wings fly up to the back of his head almost instantly in response at being slapped.

"OUCH!" exclaimed Pedro hurtfully, his wings rubbing the spot on his head where a bump would surely form that night when in la la land. "What the heck was that for, dude?!"

But his best friend merely ignored his question. "I apologize for my friend's here—" (—he draped a wing around his best friend's broad shoulders in a friendly sort of manner—) "—behavior. He just wants to know what the deal is, is all. So do I for that matter, so please, continue my friend."

"Bu-but... he said that that was it, that he was done!" said Pedro frustratedly, clearly flustered about being ignored, especially by his so called "best friend."

"That's true, I did say that," Destry said cooly, taking his straw hat off as he scratched his hat feathers before he sat down in front of them.

"_See_?!"

"But I didn't say that I was _done_," the bandana-wearing canary finished, smirking triumphantly as he saw Pedro's facial expression turn to one of embarrassment.

"Oh." It was like Pedro shrunk in size, Mateo snickering at his best friend in the background, as he watched his shoulders slump drastically in defeat.

Destry continued his story telling with a scratch of his head, before placing his straw hat back on his hat feathers. "There's not much left to tell, other than there was a scream, a gasping crowd of birds — some were even laughing and snickering — and that was when you guys and Paris had showed up to stop it all, before it escalated and got out of hand.

"But if I had to guess... I'd say that our young, shy canary broke, due to his obviously tired state, as he spilled the drink all over Rio's French drama queen... just to spite her," he chuckled, making the duo gape at him.

Mateo was the first to recover from his momentary stupor. "So let me see... if I've got this straight ... you want us to believe that... you think... that it was our one and only Nico... the most shy and polite bird... ever known to birdkind... that had _purposely_ spilt Adieu's drink... on the French bird?"

"Dude, do you know how _ridiculous_ that sounds?!" Pedro added laughingly.

He and Pedro literally bursted out laughing at having heard such a ridiculous... _ridiculous_... theory. If anyone, it certainly _wasn't Nico_ that had spilt Adieu's drink all over her. That... that was just... impossible! Completely improbable!

"Yeah, r-right, m-man!" laughed Pedro incredulously, now rolling on the floor with Pedro next to him. "N-Nico w-wouldn't do t-that!"

"H-he's right," continued the red variegated intensive canary, clutching his side from laughing too hard. "If a-any... anything, it c-certainly _wasn't N-Nico_ who... d-did i-it."

Pedro finished, "H-he c-couldn't have! T-this is N-Nico we're t-talking about h-here for Eagle's (**A/N** Eagle equals God. In a bird's POV. (c) Taka. Do not use without permission!) s-sake!"

"Yeah, yeah," dismissed Destry lazily, waving a wing in the air nonchalantly, watching as the two most beloved club owners in all of Rio laughed out loud on the floor with a roll of the eyes. "Laugh it up, why don'tcha? But that's _my_ theory, take it or leave it. Just don't let me say, 'I told ya so.'"

They stopped laughing at that, getting up as they grasped each other for obviously much needed support; Destry laughing at the birds in front of him who were fumbling and falling, tripping over their own two tails. It was actually quite a hilarious sight to behold, that was for sure.

"I think... w-we'll leave it, Destry," said Mateo in the middle of a yawn; having finally gotten up off of the floor, with Pedro following; they left to go backstage where they knew Adieu and the new girl, Safari, were currently getting ready for their sing-off. _Nico, as if_, Mateo thought sarcastically. _Yeah, right..._

* * *

"And that's what happened."

The small yellow canary in front of me had just finished telling his side of the story to me, after I had accidentally bumped into him during my nervous pacing backstage, due to having the butterflies in my stomach; it being tied into serval different knots all at once, almost making me want to throw up in the process. Almost.

"So...," I said slowly, trying to process this newfound information. "It was all just an accident then? You... getting bumped whilst making your way back to Drama Queen with _her_ drink in _your_ wing... accidentally spilling it all over her over-pruned chest feathers because someone had bumped into you...?"

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at that last statement, avoiding eye contact by finding the floor a lot more interesting. "Yeah, I guess trying to make my way back on the dance floor with drink in wing, wasn't the best idea in the world."

I only chuckled, placing a wing on his shoulder, gripping it in reinsurance. "Hey, you live and learn. That's all we can do, and hope for." I winked playfully, offering my wing for him to shake. "The name's Safari Señora de los Estrella Canary, which literally translates to 'Lady Safari of the Star'; but all of my friends just call me Safari. It's easier to remember. And you, what's your name?"

"Nicolas Ritchie Canary," introduced the small yellow canary with smooth golden feathers, rich chocolate brown eyes and a half, little smile that was just so sweet and innocent it made my heart flutter uncontrollably in the strangest feeling ever felt. Wait, what?!

"Ritchie...?" I asked slowly, almost skeptically. "What kind of name is that?"

Nicolas lowly chuckled, not making eye contact by looking at the ground. "It... it was my Dad's name... but no worries!" he quickly added, upon seeing my face darken at my own stupidity after looking up. "I didn't know him. He died when I was just a mere chick." He took my wing in his and shook it. "But all of my friends... they call me Nico. Probably easier to remember or something like that, eh, I don't know; I like it, though, so I just rolled with it."

I stared at the small yellow canary that was currently standing in front of me — who was visibly cowering under my intense stare — before I shrugged dismissively and shook wings, too. "Well, Ni - co, it's very nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Nico sweetly, smiling at me with those big, brown, adorable, puppy-dog, eyes of his; my heart melting a little bit more — _again_. Wait, what?!

"NICO!"

The aforementioned canary was then suddenly tackled by a blur of multi-colored feathers from the side; the poor kid tumbling on the floor, finally having stopped but only to find himself in one of Mateo's famous and inescapable headlocks.

"And to think... we came here to tell ya about the most ridiculous... _ridiculous_," chuckled Pedro laughingly, after he had landed backstage beside his best friend; eyeing the scene in front of him precariously. "...theory ever conceived by bird..._ ever_... only to find out that it... no, that _he_... that he was, indeed, right all along!"

Paris was now backstage too, as she was somehow easily ignoring the scene currently taking place, helping me up by the wing; because I had fallen backward, due to almost being tackled by the multi-colored blur of feathers myself. "Wait... theory?" I asked, genuinely curious, as I crossed my wings over my (um... flat) chest intimidatingly as birdly possible. "What is this so called... 'theory'... of yours?"

"Not ours; Destry's," Mateo explained simply, poor Little Nico now free from his merciless headlock as the yellow canary ran behind me fearfully; gasping for sweet, sweet oxygen very, very loudly. Poor kid. "His theory was that it was all Nico's doing, pouring the drink on Adieu where everyone can see."

Nico's chocolate orbs widened drastically. _Great, just what I need — rumors._ "No, that's not what happened at all! It was all accidental, I swear! I had accidentally poured the drink on her because I got bumped into on my way back. That's it!"

It was totally silent, until everyone suddenly broke into a full-on laughing fit — beside from me, that is, mainly because of my confusion at the sudden outburst, but also because I don't laugh. Ever. Period. Hence why it took everything I had just to smile for Paris' sake, upon entering this beloved club of hers and all.

Pedro and Mateo were rolling on the floor laughing, clutching their sides in obvious pain, with Paris just rolling her eyes at them in mock-disinterest, but I knew she was at least somewhat mildly amused by their childish antics. She was a kid at heart, after all. No matter how much she hated to admit it; and she did, trust me.

"_Ahem_."

* * *

**A/N **...So, you guys probably hate me right about now, right? For not having the sing-off? Yeah, about that... I don't know why, but it just wouldn't come out of the deep, dark depths that is my creativity onto paper. It always came out differently than I had imagined, much to my annoyance. That's why it's not in this chapter, but it'll definitely be in the next chappie, promise! ;)

Reviews are much obliged! Flames'll be burnt to a crisp. ^_^

**Mailbag**

**Niah09**: European Serin has been added! Thanks for the suggestion, N! :) I also looked said species up, and it's actually a very nice-looking bird. And it's French, too?! Even better! Because that's her nationality. Coincidence? I think not! But then again, it could very well be... lol.

There's also a very good reason why Mateo ("your favourite of my OCs") speaks the way that he does. Trust me, you won't see it comin'. And thanks so much for sticking with me for so long! It really warms my heart to have such a dedicated and loyal reader by my side. Your super long reviews really make my day! :)


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